


Glutton For Punishment

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Aristocrats are dicks, Assassins, Bad omens, Bear Clan, Beast Clans, Blood and Gore, Chains, Cock Rings, Cock Warming, Collars, Conspiracy, Curses and Seals, Drugs, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Family Secrets, Fantasy, Farran can be a dick, Hidden truths, Lies, M/M, Magic, Male Homosexuality, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Native Tribes - Freeform, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, OC's - Freeform, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original work - Freeform, Public Blow Jobs, Public Humiliation, Public Masturbation, Sexual Entertainment, Sexual Slavery, Shapeshifter, Silvestri hates Farran, Son of the chief, Spirit Bonding, War, Weretiger, Werewolf pet, Werewolf spirit, Werewolves, Wildcat Clan, Wolf Clan, hardcore yaoi, kingdom - Freeform, pet show, pet training, pleasure slave, public fingering, sex pet, werebear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-25 06:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12030297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: A young man from the Wolf Clan of the Beast Tribes is taken as a personal pet to the King's eldest son as part of the centuries old treaties between the Kingdom of man and the Beast Tribes in an attempt for continued peace. But all is not well within this seemingly peaceful Kingdom as centuries old secrets are dug up and truths about the bonding rituals and treatment of past Pet's is revealed and could wage war between the lands once more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work I've been working on for a while now and I was hoping to get your thoughts on it. Please read through and let me know what you think at the bottom. Thank you!

_The shadows lashed out at him like barbed wire across his skin, leaving tracks of blood with every strike of the leather like tendrils. A whip made of madness that incited the insanity within. Setting it ablaze like flames ravaging his soul. His screams are moans of pleasure as pain grips every nerve ending in a choke hold and threatens to suffocate them. His body writhing in the darkness, an arching of sculpted beauty. Every muscle and limb taut and tight, stretched to their limit before coiling up like a serpent. Stretching out once more across the floor. Eyes wide open. Wide with fear but glossed over in a lustful haze. His mouth agape as the delicious sounds of his agony drip from bloodied lips. Tongue seeking out the open air, leaving crimson droplets to fall onto the white pearlescent floor. His nails clawing into the earth, the black tendrils seemingly ripping him apart. The chain pulled tightly around his neck, the cold metal of the collar biting into his flesh and cutting off his air. His chest heaving with gasping breaths, his screams echoing in the room yet silence leaves his lips._

 

_His throat raw and closed off from the abuse of his vocal cords. Pale flesh marks with a roadmap of pain, spread across the cold floor, squirming and open, vulnerable and silently begging for more. Every part of the twisting beauty before his feet simply hungered for more. The once fragile youth appeared with a mask of innocence, now gluttonous and starved for the brutality that is love. The agony, the torture, the pain. Tears streaking over flushed cheeks, skin damp with sweat as the torment lasts for hours, endless exhaustion of limbs pushed to their limits. Leaking and throbbing, aching for release and relief but getting none all the same._

  
  
  
  
  


He awoke with gasping heaving breathes. Nightmares besieged his mind. Memories and dreams twisted dangerously together. Spurred on by the strong drugs running rampant in his blood. The heavy fog of sleep and the reflexive twitching of muscles coiling painfully tight in his limbs. His chest tight and contracting with every struggling breath as he whimpered.

 

” _Hel...help…”_

 

His body trembled as he tried to breath. Fighting for the oxygen that taunted him in the room. The soft gust of air flowing from the cracked window teasing him with something his body wouldn't let him have. The cool air crisp and dancing across the unbearable heat of his skin. He curled in on himself, the tears streak from his nightmares were refreshed by new ones of desperation as he gasped empty breaths. His fingers curling into the fabric of the bedding wrapped and tangled around his legs. His body trembling visibly, a smattering of gooseflesh crossing his skin. The sweat cooling but the heat remained.

 

The cracked window having been used to clear out the room of the heavy fog of the drug in the air. Suffocating him. The burning incense inciting the wicked dreams that tormented him so. It was meant to purify him, making him compliant and preparing him to accept his new master. He was stripped of his people's clothing, his body scrubbed clean of the tribal paints that normal marked their skin. His body was meant to be a clean canvas, meant only for his master to mark and modify, be it piercings, tattoos or other modifications he chose to make Salem his. After the cleansing ceremony was completed, his new master would take him. Claim him as his and he would give up his purity and virgin status to him and only him as dictated by the laws of their people.

 

For he was the sacrificial pawn of his clan. It is said to be a blessed position, it was considered brave and courageous, to sacrifice himself in the name of maintaining the peace of the lands. Every generation these rites were performed. The youngest child of the Chief would be given to the first born Prince of the King. Normally amongst his people it would be the place of a female but his father bore no girls. Only sons. The chief's of past always bore girls but his father had none. So the position fell to Salem. His people were highly revered, being the descendants of fierce and powerful warriors. Warriors that had the Blessing of the Beast on their side. They could transform into massive beasts, predators to be feared. Many of the more common were bears or large cats but Salem’s bloodlines held the rare blessing of the wolf. Though Salem’s appearance was wolf, his personality was that of a fox. Sly, cunning and cautious.

 

But now he was being prepared as the personal pet of the Prince. His body, mind and soul. But the ritual was taking a great toll on Salem than those in the past. For he was highly susceptible and sensitive to any kind of drug. Even these weak ones used in the ritual. Drinking the holy elixir and consuming the white ashe of a hallucinogenic plant combined with the smoke of the incense. It was all to incite harmless visions and help ease the body into the new position it would be forced to endure. But now Salem felt as if he had lost all control of his own body. It refused to take in air as he gasped and the collar fixed around his neck sealed his inner beast. It was considered a precaution since the inner beasts never took the ritual too well. But Salem never had good control of his and the collar was to stay on him indefinitely to prevent him from losing control. He could feel the wolf inside him fighting to get out which made his struggle all the more worse as he gasped once more, the binding silver feeling all too tight around his throat. Calling out into the darkness of the room. His body exposed beneath the silk draped across the bedding. His chest heaving for air that came in short sharp bursts. The suffocating tendrils from the nightmare seeming to still hold him tightly in their grasp.

 

_”Help…!”_

 

The door to the room flew open as many robed figures entered upon hearing the cries of distress from the royal pet. The guards standing watch just beyond the chambers hearing the fearful sounds alerted the priests who were overseeing the cleansing. It was worrying since this has never happened before. All the rest had in the past had succumb to pleasant sleep or had fevered dreams full of pleasure and the only sounds that would be heard would be moans and cries for attention from whatever specters were ravishing them in their dreams. But this was entirely the opposite as Salem’s body writhed on the bed. His raven hair pooling across the pristine white of the pillows, golden eyes wide and terrified as his body curled in on itself, recoiling from the figures that encircled the bed. His fingers digging into the bedding, gripping it tightly in curled digits as he drew away, more towards the center of the bed furthest from the rest. The sheets stained with the sweat of his body. The intense heat radiating from him burning in the cool night air, wisps of steam rising from his flesh as it rolled across pale pristine skin.

 

The priest’s spoke in hushed tones, their words barely audible to the terrified male on the bed. In the darkness of the room where only pale shards of moonlight reach in, the looming figures surrounding him were like vicious shadowy gargoyles. The heavy fog clouding his thoughts creating a haze over his eyes preventing him seeing the truth and twisting the shadows around the room into a collection of darkly cloaked figures all come to cause him pain and prolong the suffering he thought he had escaped in his nightmares.

 

_“Should we send for his majesty?”_ One of the cloaked figures questioned, voice laced with concern that the son of the Wolf Clan wouldn’t survive the night or the rest of the cleansing ritual like this. The concern was punctuated as another fearful cry for help came, strangled and gasping like the rest. But when another priest reached out to him with hands covered in black satin gloves, Salem recoiled further away.

 

_“We may have to.”_ Another priest stated, seeing the shifter curl up more into the sheets in an attempt to hide but the raging heat of his body only made that more unbearable. A low whimper escaped his throat.

 

_“But sir, that goes against tradition. His majesty isn’t supposed to see him until the cleansing is complete.”_ Another’s protests jolted through the air with disbelief. The figures shifted uneasily, unknowing of what to do in such a situation. They were forbidden from having physical contact with the young man without the holy gloves and nobody but the Prince was allowed to touch him. The cleansing process was meant to purify the male in mind, body and soul. Untainted by the prior interactions of the shifter’s previous life.

 

_“I understand that but we have no other choice. We cannot touch him but if nothing is done right away, he may die.”_

 

A heavy silence fell between the priests and the only sound that came was the heavy gasping breaths from Salem’s lips and the rustling of his body fighting against the heat and the bedding. All they could do is watch while a guard was sent to retrieve the Prince from his chambers. When the Prince arrived, he wasn’t at all pleased with being disturbed. His short sandy blond locks tousled from sleep and sticking in odd directions from his own tossing and turning in bed. His night shirt was rumpled and the cerulean blue robe that was draped around his body was left open at the chest and tied shut rather lazily at the waist. Icy blue eyes narrowed at the sight of the priests all gathered around the bed as if in the midst of a ritual, their hoods drawn up to cast their faces in shadows. From the entryway, he could peer between the cloaked forms enough to see the distressed male writhing on the bed, struggling to breath and whimpering fearfully.

 

_“Our sincerest apologies for disturbing you, your majesty but an emergency has arose and you are the only one who can address it.”_ He gave a sigh of annoyance as his fingers raked through the blond locks making them even more of a mess than before. He stepped forward, the cloaked figures parting and moving to either side of the room giving the Prince the necessary space. They couldn’t touch Salem but they could still assist the Prince in seeing to the shifter’s survival.

 

_“He wasn’t here two days and he’s already become rather troublesome. Your reputation precedes you little wolf.”_ The words may have sounded sharp, but they were edged only from the Prince’s own exhaustion from the rituals and rites he’s had to perform leading up to the binding of his pet and himself. A union made for peace and rather long winded and dull in the Prince’s opinion. He growled his discontent but gave a sigh of defeat soon after as another soft plea for help escaped the shifter’s lips. The muscles coiling and then drawing taut across his body. The flexing of every limb was beautifully mapped out across his sun kissed skin. His body exposed to the elements with the only clothing being a white silken cloth draped around his hips and tied off with a dark blue sash. The cloth extended two-thirds of the way down his thighs, being the only clothing permitted during the cleansing. It was traditional for males. Females would simply be in the barest of undergarments.

 

It had been a rather long time since they last did a cleansing on a male and even longer since it has been performed on a member of the wolf clan. But the Beast Tribe has always been a loyal follower of the old ways and in doing such was forced to send the youngest son of their chief. Though in the Prince’s opinion, he didn’t care much about the tradition. In past generations the females were used for nothing more than breeding stock, having little to no use for anything else after becoming accustomed to palace life, having let their warrior ways decay. The males, though a rarer stock to behold, were used for protection and defense. Both of which the Prince had no interest in and thus Salem was simply a formality. One of which he was already quickly growing impatient with in his sleep deprived state.

 

_“Your majesty?”_ One of the priests questioned when the Prince stood beside the bed, blue eyes roaming over the distraught creature with a coldness that was far worse then that the night air could conjure up. If only that look alone could quench the raging heat on the male’s writhing body. He reached out slowly to draw back a few of the long dark locks from his face. Yet another thing that would be left up for the Prince to decide. In preparation, the shifter was instructed to let his hair grow long and wild, permitting the Prince to dictate every inch of his pet from the start. Having complete and total control over his life as tradition dictated. He was unamused by the sight, having such long feminine hair with a masculine body only made the interaction seem awkward. But as the locks were drawn back, fairer features were given light by the sneaking slivers of silver moonlight coming through the glass doors of the balcony. Shining through the sheer white cloth of the curtains.

 

Salem drew away from the touch, causing his head to turn ever so slightly to inspect whatever it was that intruded on his space, finding his clouded golden eyes peering up at a pair of tantalizing blue. They reminded him of a crystal blue lake in the dead of summer. The images of the shimmering blue landscape reminded him of the relentless thirst that plagued him, given solace from it if only for a few moments. Now combined with the sweltering heat that burned his skin, he felt as if he were dying, gazing up into the only glimpse of water he would ever see again and it being tauntingly far out of reach. His lips parted to speak but his words failed to come to him, dying on the tip of his tongue as the moonlight encircled the golden halo in pale light above the Prince’s head, causing those blue pools to come to life. The hand that had initially drew back the wayward strands once before moved again, this time tilting so that the back of the palm was pressed firmly against his forehead. The Prince didn’t hold his hand there for very long, withdrawing it as if Salem’s skin alone had caused him a significant burn to his own flesh.

 

_“I need water, both for cleansing and drinking. Wash rags and towels. Hurry.”_ His orders were sharp and the priests scattered from the room in a tizzy to hurry and fulfil their highness’s orders. Servant’s weren’t allowed in the cleansing room and neither were the guards who kept a watchful eye from the outside. Eyes fixed on the distressed form in the bed. The Prince stepped away from the bed, having noticed the dazed fogged look in the male’s eyes and threw open the glass panelled doors of the balcony to invite more of the night air and clear out the dizzying haze of the incense. It was starting to bother him even, making his head spin and swoon so he could only imagine what it was doing to the shifter. Shifter’s senses were ten times as powerful as a human’s and this one was said to be even weaker to mind altering substances. He took up a wooden hand fan that had been used to quickly disperse the smoke around the room from the beginning and this time used it to flush the smoke out of the room. The sickly sweet scent of it leaving an acrid taste in his mouth and burning his nostrils. He never did like them but once again, it was tradition.

 

Once that was cleared out, he let the cool night breeze take care of the rest as he sat down on the bed beside his pet. Reaching out another slow hand. The young man jerked away fearfully, drawing him out to speak once more. _“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. Just lie still.”_

 

Salem’s golden eyes watched him warily, but he did as he was told. Holding his breath without realizing it, expecting the other’s touch to elicit pain even though he gave a remark of reassurance. His fog heavy thoughts were having a hard time deciphering one thing from the next. Mistaking shadows for monsters lurking just beyond the lengths of his blurring and dreary vision.  He gasped softly at the tender touch that gently caressed the side of his face. He looked up into the blue pools pleadingly. Begging for help since his lips refused to form that request anymore. His chest was tight and he was still struggling with every hard breath.

 

It wasn’t long before the first of the priests returned carrying a pitcher of water on a tray with two glasses and a bowl with a small towelette with it. He placed it on the bedside table nearest the Prince then backed away, awaiting another order. _“Go help the others.”_ He directed as he reached for the pitcher and poured a glass of the water. He placed another hand on the male’s shoulder and directed him to sit up with a light push. Salem obeyed, his heightened senses able to smell the crisp cool liquid on the air. He raised shaking hands to take the glass but the Prince drew it away from the wolf’s reach. He shook his head, giving Salem a stern look in response. The wolf looked confused, his golden pools dripping with desperation but he let his hands drop down to his sides anyway if only to receive the glass through his obedience. The Prince seemed momentarily pleased with the action before pressing the rim of the glass to the wolf’s lips. _“Drink. Slowly.”_ He directed, tipping the glass ever so slightly to control the flow of the water in small bursts into the wolf’s mouth. Even as he pushed against it seeking more all at once. He wasn’t going to allow his pet to make himself sick by getting overwhelmed by his own thirst. He took pauses in between then set the glass down off to the side.

 

Another priest returned with a stack of towels with another trailing behind with a basin of cool water. It wasn’t outright cold but more of room temperature. They sat the basin down on the other side table and the stack of towels on the corner of the bed. Once again the Prince sent them away. They were of no use to him now since they couldn’t assist with anything more. Once they were gone, he placed a damp compress over Salem’s forehead then another across each shoulder, nestled into the crook of his neck on either side. He stripped away as much of the bedding as he could to help cool the male. And then took a damp towelette and started to wipe down his body. Running it over his arms to start with and his chest. Salem shivered, giving a soft groan at the contact. The drugs had his body hypersensitive and overly aware of any stimulation. The feeling of the Prince’s hands on his skin when the towel would bunch up made a low pleasant growl escape his lips. As the cooling compresses soothed the burning heat of his skin, it also helped calm his body enough to regain some control over his rapid breathing. Now it came in long slow deep breaths, occasionally shuddering. He shivered, gooseflesh running across his skin as a few cool droplets pooled down his bare chest.

 

There came another sharp intake of breath as the Prince’s hands moved lower down his body, wiping down his abdomen and hips, bypassing down to the feet and working his way back up to his calves then knees and soon his thighs. A low growl of warning came from Salem’s chest but when the Prince looked up, it wasn’t the clouded orbs he was used to seeing but a hungry predatory look. Salem’s inner wolf was lurking just beyond, prowling diligently and watching him ever so closely. Salem’s lips parted, flashing his sharp canines in addition to his warning when the Prince’s hand moved up a little more. It was then that it became apparent what his pet’s problem was at the awkward tenting going on with the garment. The Prince gave a small laugh of amusement, realizing the wolf really was sensitive. It would be all too easy to tease him and with even less satisfaction from it since Salem wouldn’t be able to fight back in the slightest. And the Prince did enjoy victory so much better when it was a fair fight. To take advantage of his pet, especially when he technically wasn’t even supposed to be near him just yet. Not until the next day’s ceremony of binding and the bonding ritual the evening after.

 

But he wasn’t so lowly a person to do such a thing and instead decided it best to finish up wiping him down. He replaced the cool compresses with fresh ones and gave Salem another drink of water. The wolf seemed to settle into place on the bed as his skin started to cool. The prince placed a light weight sheet over top of Salem’s body to maintain some body heat while the compresses continued to keep him cool. He didn’t want his body to plummet in temperature. With the incense smoke completely cleared out of the room, he closed the doors for the balcony and drew up a chair beside the bed. His blue eyes watching over his pet quietly, seeing the shifter’s form relax into the bedding and his golden eyes beginning to look clearer. There were still the effects of the other drugs used during the cleansing in his body but the incense may have been too overwhelming for his senses. He watched as the shifter’s eyelids seemed to grow too heavy for him to keep open and it wasn’t much longer before he gave into it and slipped back into a silent sleep. He wouldn’t call it peaceful by the look on the male’s face but it was quiet compared to the previous whimpering and thrashing that had been exhibited prior. He remained by his side throughout the rest of the night, changing his compresses until his body had cooled to a more bearable temperature and his sleep seemed to be a bit more peaceful. Just as the first shards of light started to break over the horizon, the priests came to the cleansing room to collect Salem and prepare him for the rest of the process. At this time, the prince was relieved of his watch over his pet and allowed to rest in his own quarters once again until he was needed later that afternoon. It was a relief for him to return to his bed and recapture the sleep he had missed out on due to the troublesome creature he was going to be bound to later that day.


	2. Chapter 2

When the priests came for Salem, he was confused and uncertain of what was happening. Still reeling from the long night, his mind clouded heavily from the drugs still running rampant in his body. Though he was no longer plagued with painful nightmares or trapped within the intense heat, he was delayed in his thoughts and actions, struggling to grasp what the priests wanted him to do. First they led him out of the cleansing room to a large stone bath down the hall. The priests surrounding him and guards following close behind on either side incase the shifter caused trouble or trouble came for him. The guards once again were to remain outside while the priests took him inside. There were sheer curtains hanging around a stone bath rose up from the floor. A myriad of herbs and flower petals floated on the water’s surface. A light sweet aroma wafted on the air that wasn’t at all overpowering and Salem actually found it to be rather pleasant and much kinder to his enhanced senses then the incense the night before. He was then passed on to two females dressed in the bare minimum of clothing. Their nearly completely naked bodies covered in elegant tattoos that marked them as royal healers. Their darkly tanned flesh outlined with white markings telling Salem they came from a desert tribe once long ago. Somewhere in the eastern lands. Their long dark brown hair was wrapped in silken ribbons, one had red the other blue. To Salem they looked like twins.  

 

The room resembled an oasis of sorts with many lush green plants set about the room in massive clay pots. Deep green vines working up the supports of a pergola fixed over the bath. A skylight was high above in the ceiling casting a tunnel of natural morning light within, spotlighting the bath. They took him by his biceps and guided him towards the pools. These girls were the only ones other then the Prince who were allowed to have physical contact with him because they were healers. They undressed him with as few movements as possible much to Salem’s dismay. He wasn't prepared for the fact he was now stripped down to nothing but his collar in front of these two girls. His face heated up with embarrassment. This sort of thing was not allowed among his people. To see another in such a state. The only exceptions were the young and the elderly. Or on the rare occasion, the sickly but only immediate family or their healers were permitted that. The fact two outsiders were viewing him in such a way made his skin crawl with unease.

 

A moment later they were pushing him towards the pool of water, not offering a single word to him in the process. With a few fumbled steps, he was waist deep in the warm water. He turned just as the two circled him in the water, taking up position on either side of him as they proceeded to clean his body by hand from top to bottom. He despised it, being touched so much by strangers. It made his inner wolf uneasy and nervous. His body was cleaned with scented oils and his hair neatly combed out after he dried off. They then gave him an elixir to drink which purged him further of any toxins in his body. That was, in Salem’s opinion, worse than the drug induced visions he was subjected to. By the end of it all, he was thoroughly miserable and pretty sure he was as clean and new as a newborn by the time they finished.

 

His body was inspected by the two healers before they dressed him in the ceremonial wear. He wore a white skirt like garment again, this time it was longer down past his knees and of a softer material, tied in place with a silver sash around his hips. A sheer midnight blue robe was placed over his shoulders and tied at the waist. It had a deep cut in the front that exposed his chest. The rest only covering his shoulders, sides and back right down to his hips. The sides had a long drape partway down his thighs that split the front and the back below the sash. It gave him the look of flow and elegance that would glide behind him as he walked. His long black hair was tied back with silken ribbons of the same blue as his robe, capturing the wild and disheveled appearance to make him look more civilized and composed. Silver cuff links were fixed on either wrist to match the collar the prince had chosen himself. These were of a ceremonial sort and would be used only during rituals or special ceremonies. There was a D ring fixed into each that allowed them to be locked together or to something else. Much like the fixture that allowed his collar to be locked in place by a chain either from the front or the back.

 

By time they had finished, it was almost noon and the ceremony was going to start soon. The two women were to guide Salem from the room to the throne room where hundreds of people had gathered, most all royals or those of nobility. There were a handful of military men, generals and other high ranking officers. There was a massive number of guards present as well. All bearing the blue and silver colors of the Kingdom. Their shields marked with a silver falling star, it's burning tail spiraling around its center.

 

As they entered, Salem was led by a silver chain attached to the front of his collar. His wrists were bound together in front by a short chain link that was no more than six inches long. The throne room was massive with many wooden pews on either side all facing the three thrones at the front. The dark blue banners with the shooting star mark hung above the large glass windows that allowed for the hall to be lit by natural light alone. The glass arch style panels reaching from floor to ceiling. The ceiling was made up of many arches giving it depth as the banners hung proudly. The floor was rolled out with a deep blue rug that led down the aisle and up the small handful of steps to the throne platform. The King sat in the middle, the Queen on his right and the Prince sitting on his left.

 

The group of priests stood nearby prepared to continue the ceremony. On the opposite side of the platform stood the king’s counsel and his nephew, the war advisor. He was still young much like the prince but he was cunning and sly. He played war like a game and made his way through the ranks using tactic and intelligence. The kingdom's most formidable spymaster. Easily underestimated but well known, even to Salem’s tribe. The spymaster had been with the escort that had taken Salem from his people and to the palace.

 

The royal family was easily spotted with their blond hair and blue eyes. It was the symbol of power and their bloodlines never strayed from those traits. Even in seeking spouses, those were the top of the list of desirable traits with no exceptions. Each of the royals was adorned in the deep blue colors with delicate silver accents and sashes. The only medium between were the occasional red accents or for the majority, black.

 

Salem was presented before the King, there was a tug on his chain, gesturing for him to kneel before his majesty. He was a little delayed in his actions but he managed to kneel appropriately before the King with his head bowed in a form of submission. The ways of the royals was strange compared to his own people and culture. Among the Beast Tribe a form of respect is to prostrate yourself before your leader. A true sign of respect and submission. So the fact he was kneeling felt disrespectful but a lot less embarrassing than what his people would expect of him. Especially with so many in the room staring at him. He was never one for large groups like his older brother and his father. They thrived with the eyes of the masses on them. But it left Salem feeling small and insignificant, as if the eyes were boring right through him. As Salem was kneeling, the lead Priest stepped up to continue the ceremony. “On this day, we all bare witness to the continuation of the Treaty for Peace between the Beast Clans of Vavra and the Kingdom of Respa.” The priest addressed the King and the people as he spoke these words. He then turned to the Prince. “Prince Farran Aralar,” The Prince stood when his name was called. He approached the Priest who stood beside Salem. Salem fought the urge to look up, keeping his head bowed in respect. “On this day you shall be bound to Salem “ _Silvestri”_ Lazarus of the Wolf Clan.” He took the chain and passed it over to the Prince who took it in his palm, curling his fingers around it. “Rise Salem.” Salem got to his feet but kept his golden eyes low, avoiding the risk of disrespecting the Prince.

 

Another priest walked over carrying an ornate silver goblet with sapphires fixed into the sides. The goblet was raised between them, Prince Farran taking the first drink of the thick sweet dark liquid within. It reminded Salem of wine but with the consistency of blood. After Farran, Salem was next to drink. It smelled sweet but the taste was bitter on his tongue with a sour almost spoiled tang at the end. It took everything in his power not to make a face at the taste. It was nearly overpowering to his senses. The goblet was drawn away and instead a tray was brought over to them. On it was a tattoo kit used to mark Salem officially as Prince Farran’s property. A royal worker was brought up, a tattoo artist specializing in marking royal pets. Farran held up a piece of scroll that held the ancient Aralar family crest of the shooting star symbol. It was done in black and dark blue with a small white four petalled flower in the center. No bigger then the nail of his pinky. It was meant to show the exact person Salem was bound to. “This will mark you as mine. You are under my protection from this moment on and any who dare touch him or harm him in any way without my permission shall be punished with the full extent of the law. The crime shall be treated much the same as if those acts were put against the royal family themselves.” With that, the artist began their work, drawing off the robe that covered Salem’s chest to expose the skin where the tattoo could be placed just over his heart. A cushioned bench was brought out and Salem was instructed to lie down on his back. He obliged and closed his eyes while the artist got to work.

 

It took quite a bit of time to place the tattoo and it would be rather painful on Salem’s end of things since the cleansing further heightened his senses, including sense of touch. After a few dozen wipe downs of ink and blood and half an hour later, the tattoo was finished. It was about the size of a grown man’s fist once it was complete. The flesh around it was swollen and bleeding from the needles and agitation but everything went well enough to continue. Once that was over with, Salem was permitted to rise once again, this time to his feet. He felt uneasy when he opened his eyes and was reminded of the massive audience that remained. It was mandatory that the marking be witnessed so all understand who he belonged to.

 

The Prince addressed his pet's new marking with a look of approval before allowing the priests to carry on. The rest of the ceremony consisted of the usual bland and overly repeated speeches and the promising of the two being bound to each other. Demanding Salem’s complete and total loyalty and Farran’s duties as the caretaker and keeper of the son of the Wolf Tribe. By the ceremonies end, everyone in the room was eager to leave. Later that night a large banquet would be hosted in celebration of the continuation of the treaty. Then afterwards the pairing would be permitted a couple days undisturbed to bond and get accustomed to each other and the new roles and responsibilities expected from them.

 

Before all the rest could leave, the Prince and his pet were the first to go. Heading to a separate wing of the castle where they will spend the next few days which will also be considered Salem’s home for the rest of his service to the Prince. The wing was that of a royal pet’s. One where the royals in the past would go when pursuing the satisfaction of certain needs and where different duties of the pet would be carried out when not accompanying their master abroad.

 

The wing was just like any other in the castle, though this one opened up to a courtyard that allowed the royal pet to spend time outdoors without the need to actually leave the castle. As many of the pets of the past were females, they all seemed to enjoy the space which helped them relax into their new roles as it often reminded them of home. Farran didn’t know if Salem would like that sort of thing and at the moment he honestly didn’t care as he walked briskly ahead, his hand gripping the chain to Salem’s collar tightly in his hand. The only sounds in the wing were those of Farran’s boots and Salem’s barefeet on the cold stone floor. There were guards placed at the entrance of the wing and there were no other points of entry within, this was prevent pets from running away as well as to avoid any attacks on the royal Aralar family.

 

Salem stumbled along behind his new master, trying to keep up while also still reeling from the ceremony and the previous rituals his body was put through. He was thoroughly exhausted and feeling as if the world was spinning around him when they did finally come to a stop. They stood before a set of massive wooden double doors. Prince Farran reached into his pocket and withdrew a key that unlocked one side, pushing it open as he pulled Salem along with him. Inside the room was a large four poster canopy bed much like the one Salem had spent the night of the cleansing in. The bedding was all white with dark blue curtains tied shut to the posts. Leaving a perfect view of the bed from the doorway. Around the room there wasn’t much else besides a wooden trunk on the far wall beside a wardrobe. Two massive windows were fixed into the wall and the sills held wooden seats with cushions on them so the occupant could sit or stretch out in the sill while gazing out at the landscape. From the window was a perfect view of the kingdom, reaching as far out as to be able to see the crystal blue of the ocean and the beginning of the large expanse of forest surrounding the protective outer walls of the city. The bay was full of ships that had come for the celebration, carrying travelers, merchants and aristocrats with them. There were also many military vessels keeping the bay protected as well. Soldiers could be spotted patrolling in large groupings. It reminded Salem of ants marching along in clusters, moving with a purpose but seeming to go nowhere at all.

 

Farran tugged on the leash linked to Salem’s collar, effectively jerking him out of his thoughts. He was pulled towards the bed, the massive wooden door swinging shut ominously behind them as Farran pulled the leash again. He looked to Salem, giving him a stern look as he spoke sharply. “Sit.” The command was rather abrupt and made it sound like Farran was speaking to an unruly mutt.

 

Salem stumbled forward again as he was jerked by his collar, grunting in response to the harsh impatient tugging. “Alright. Alright. Stop pulling.” He blurted rather disrespectfully but at the moment he didn’t care. He couldn’t get his bearings if the prince kept it up. He finally managed to sit on the bed where the Prince had gestured at but he no sooner turned to face Farran when Salem felt something strong crack across his face. A sudden stinging pain shot through his skull and his head was jolted to the side. It took him a minute before he realized what had hit him. It was the back of Farran’s hand. Salem felt a heat rising in his face from where the blow struck. The look in Farran’s eyes was cold and hard.

 

“Let’s get a few things straight right now.” Farran’s voice held a sharp edge that felt as if it could easily reach out and cut Salem without making any physical contact as all. “From this point on you shall address me as _Master_ or _Sir_. You _will_ be respectful and will not speak unless I give you permission to. Am I understood?”

 

“Yes sir.” Salem spoke quickly, in response, even though he was still reeling from the strike. He wasn’t expecting the harsh words either. But those two words no sooner left his lips and his head was jerked to the other side as another blow was dealt.

 

“I didn’t permit you to speak mutt.” Farran growled. Salem placed a hand over his smarting cheek and rubbed at the tender flesh, trying to work away the dull sting lingering there. He was already sick and tired of his duties so far. He wasn’t alone with the prince for more than five minutes and already it was taking everything in his power not to lunge at him. No self-respecting warrior of the Beast Tribe, especially from the Wolf Tribe would stand for such insolence. But he reminded himself that he signed away his rights and his freedom for his people. He no longer had a say in anything that goes on in his life and as much as it pissed him off, he has to sit here and take the Prince’s abuse.

 

After a few long moments of silence, Salem heard the leash being moved about. When he looked up, he saw the chain had been attached to a mount on the bed, attached to the headboard and it was firmly locked into place using one of the Prince’s keys, preventing Salem from leaving the bed. He stared up at Farran, uncertain of what was going on as the Prince stepped back away from the bed. His ice blue eyes roaming over Salem’s body and the ceremonial clothes. The tattoo peeking out at him through the sheer blue cloth that draped over his pat’s shoulders. He made a grunt of approval at the sight of Salem collared and bound, sitting on the bed, red faced from his chastising. It was a good look for the shifter. He looked forward to making this once fierce warrior vulnerable and dependant like all the rest. He wasn’t going to let the unruly mutt ruin the Aralar reputation as the _Beast Tamers_. He knew the male had trouble controlling his wolf, the rumors had reached even him of the second son of the Chief of the Beast Tribe. He caused plenty of trouble for his own village whenever his wolf got riled up. Farran was going to put a stop to it’s troublemaking nature, even if it meant he had to be a bit harsh or it made him seem cruel.

 

“Now, be a good boy and stay.” Farran said with a slight smile curving his lips up knowing full well Salem couldn’t leave the bed, no matter how much he wanted to. The first week of a Master and pet’s bond were the most important and were often used for training and taming the new pet. Molding them into a more presentable creature before they were allowed to follow their master outside of their respective wing. “You have a few hours to yourself to rest then it’ll be time to start preparing for the banquet. When I come back, we’ll go over more of what’s expected of you.” With that said, Farran gave his pet another glance over. “Am I understood?” He questioned, watching Salem as he opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, catching himself. A snide smile rose on Farran’s lips as he was expecting the male to not get it into his thick skull yet. But he surprised him. He watched Salem slowly nod his head to show he understood. “Good boy.” He turned on his heel and walked towards the door, his body moving gracefully across the ground as if he were floating over it but that was to be expected of royalty. Fluidity and grace in every fiber of their being. Salem watched as the door clicked shut with the same ominous feeling as his new master’s form disappeared on the other side. Leaving him completely alone and for once, Salem welcomed it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

A few hours had passed and Salem didn’t realize when he had fallen asleep but he had been pulled into a deep snooze that lasted during that time. That is until the slamming of the heavy wooden doors startled him awake. His golden eyes widened suddenly, his body jolting upright and tensing, taking on a defensive posture in the bed with one arm raised protectively in front of himself. Near the doorway stood the Prince who had an amused smile on his face. His blue eyes seeming a little less cold. In his hands was a tray covered in cloth. Behind him was the two healers from before, one carrying a basin of water and a towel hung over her arm, the other had a tray with small dishes on it and an empty glass. Behind them was a priest who set out a wooden folding table and chair where everything was placed. Without a word, the two healers and the priest bowed to the Prince and left. The heavy wooden banging loudly in the silence of the room.

 

“I’m glad to see you’re awake. How did you sleep my pet?” Farran asked as he stood expectantly beside the bed, blue eyes watching Salem. He raised an eyebrow at the male as he watched him relax back into the bed, his hands resting in his lap and his head bowed in respect. He gave a pleased sound and a look of approval, glad to see the raven haired male was learning his place so quickly. “Speak.” He ordered, permitting his pet the chance to answer.

 

“I slept fine, sir.” Salem prefered to stay away from the other honorific. His silent form of rebellion. He stared down at the table where the trays and basin were.

 

Farran followed his gaze and sighed, expecting something a little more interesting then that. But he couldn’t help it. He took the glass and filled it with the crisp clean water of the basin and handed it to his pet but didn’t let go of it when Salem took it in hand. “You’re not to eat or drink unless I say you can. You must ask my permission for everything when you are in my presence.” He explained quietly, watching Salem closely. “If you need to request to speak in order to gain permission, you can ask by simply touching my arm if we are standing or if I am sitting or you’re kneeling at my feet, touch my leg.” Farran paused for a moment before speaking, pressing the rim of the glass to Salem’s lips. “Drink.”

 

Salem obliged and did so greedily, taking as much as the Prince would allow which was little at a time. It was his attempt to maintain the kernel of control about even the smallest things. Including how much water his pet received. It was a frustrating feeling to the shifter whose thirst was tormenting him after getting such a tauntingly refreshing sip. “When I stand, you’re to kneel at my feet. When I sit, you’re to seat yourself on the floor beside me. When I walk, you’re to remain behind me with you head bowed at all times. I shall command you for each of these. Including when to stand and when to kneel until it becomes second nature to you. Even if spoken to by others, you’re not allowed to speak unless I permit you to. I am your master, not them.”

 

Farran further explained as he watched Salem drain the glass by his master’s will. When it was finished, he sat it back on the table and drew the cloth away from the tray. Beneath the cloth was a handful of different instruments used for grooming purposes. The prince stepped closer, leaning over Salem as he unlocked the chain from the headboard and tugged on it lightly. “Stand.” He ordered. Salem rose to his feet and followed the pull of the chain where Farran positioned him beside the wooden folding chair. It was a simply wooden frame with a canvas seat stretched across. Most often used in camps and while traveling. “Sit.” Farran commanded in an even tone, gesturing down at the chair with his hand. He fixed the chain so it looped around his wrist while he continued with his work. Salem sat quietly watching as his master picked up a pair of shears and got to work cutting away at his pet’s hair. Dampening it with some of the water in the basin using a washrag. He cut the raven locked so they hung down to just above the formation of Salem’s jawbone when his head was tilted up. He moved his pet’s head side to side as he worked. It didn’t take very long before shifter’s long black hair was tamed into a neat orderly appearance, making him look less wild.

 

He swept away the black locks that had fallen onto the male’s shoulders and chest before drawing off Salem’s ceremonial clothing. Only the pieces covering his torso and shoulders. Tossing the pieces aside, laying them on the bed. He took the wet rag and wiped down Salem’s body, making sure to clean around his tattoo. Stopping for a moment to admire the marking, tracing his fingers over the dark lines. It appeared to be a lot less agitated now than it had been when the shifter first received it. That was a good sign. The first since the rather unwelcome events that happened in the cleansing room. Salem winced at the touch over the still rather tender flesh of his tattoo. But he made no audible sound that would warrant another strike from his master.

 

Once Salem’s body had been wiped down, Farran pulled back another cloth that had been obscuring the view of the contents of the small dishes. In each was a mixture of colorful powdery substances, each one making up a different solid color. All it took was a little bit of water and each would become a thick paint used to decorate his pet’s body in his traditional tribal patterns. It would be the last time his pet would be adorned in his native markings. He had been studying the cultural markings for the last week or so and practiced often how to form the ceremonial patterns that would be necessary for the banquet. It was something his ancestors did with all of their pets from the Beast Tribe. He found that each individual clan had their own sets of markings that were unique to them that he had to learn. It helped the fact he knew what specific clan Salem hailed from that allowed him to better learn and understand. Or at least that’s what his mentors and his father told him. But he honestly didn’t care either way. They all looked the same to him. He did these things simply out of necessity. If it wasn’t for the fact it was required as part of his rite and it was deep rooted tradition he wouldn’t bother with the hassle at all.

 

Farran sighed as he picked up one of the fine tipped brushes from the tray and dipped it into a white paint. He marked Salem, red branching out from his back over his arms, white rolling up like vines from the center of the red pattern, reaching up his spin and spreading across his shoulder blades and neck. It curled around the front and stopped just under his jaw like delicate vines. From there a deep blue and washed out grey formed up his chest, outlining every muscle and dip of his torso boldly, moving like waves up along his body until they curled around his throat to join the white around his collar but the silver edged further up to meet just under his mouth like the bottom set of wolf’s fangs. The rest of his face had blue markings that were similar to the style of a tribal wolf with the upper fangs and the depth like pools beneath eyes like the golds of a setting sun.

 

By this time, Salem had closed his eyes, savoring the soft gentle caress of the brush across his skin. The cool touch of each paint as it marks his body. He could feel it drying, comfortable and familiar from years of ceremonies, rituals and celebrations with these same delicate paints and symbols adorning his bare body. It caused his inner wolf to stir, letting a low pleasant growl edge from his throat. A groan of satisfaction that genuinely startled Farran. He had become so wrapped up in what he was doing as if he were painting a masterpiece and not the feral markings of a shifter. Farran gazed down at the male after taking a step back and releasing a long slow deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He was in awe of the change that seemed to come over Salem with just the familiar paintings on his skin, the shifter seemed to relax completely in his seat. His facial features were soft and calm, looking more at peace then he has ever seen him before. The male looked like the picture of tranquility without the appearance of a single care in the world. He cleared his throat and sat the paint brush back on the tray when he finally pulled himself out of his awe stricken state. Salem opened his eyes to peer up at the prince, his brows knitted together in confusion before he realized it was probably getting late. They had somewhere to be after all.

 

“Stand.” Farran commanded as he tugged on the chain lightly, just enough to push his point. Salem rose back onto his feet and Farran started leading him out of the room leaving the mess on the table behind them like an afterthought. Salem thought that maybe the servants were going to take care of it while they were away. He wondered if maybe the Prince was going to change as well since he still wore the same outfit as before. But Salem found after a few moments of closer inspection that it wasn’t entirely the same outfit as before. It was the same style as before but now instead of the silver accents with delicate black, this time the blacks accented the deep blue, making a bolder statement and leaving nearly no silver to be had on the uniform whatsoever except to hem delicate edges for minute details. Salem followed his master through the cold stone halls. His bare feet padding along behind the clicking of his master’s boot steps. He kept his head bowed as he moved, his eyes roaming over the work his master had done in preparing his body for the celebration and he was genuinely impressed. The Prince had done his homework, it was still a little sloppy and childish in the strokes and their placements but it was impressive for an amatuer.

 

It wasn’t much longer before Salem could hear the merry raucous going on within the dining hall even through the massive wooden doors. As the Prince approached, Salem heard the guards stand at attention in greeting to his Majesty. As the massive doors creaked open, a wave of heat and the mixture of scents assaulted Salem’s nostrils. It took everything in his power not to recoil back. He could smell all the people, the food, the booze, all of it hitting him hard all at once. With a slight jerk of the chain, Farran guided the shifter into the dining hall where hundreds massed, crowded and overwhelming the tables. There were the smells of colognes, perfumes and body odor, sweat and booze mixing together. It made Salem feel sick, having never been so overwhelmed like this before. Their people held all of their gatherings and celebrations outdoors but being within the confines of the massive hall almost made him want to turn and run in the opposite direction, just to get away from all the people and scents.

 

But he swallowed hard and forced himself to take one step after another behind his master. The people cheered upon their entrance, the sounds bouncing off the stone walls and harassing his ears. He wanted to cover them, but instead he just ducked his head more and tried to focus on his master before him. Before long they had reached the massive tables where the royal family sits. The king, queen and Prince Farran’s cousin were already present along with their nearest counsel. At the end of the table, beside the the queen was where Farran would sit and there was an open space beside him at the end of the table with a deep blue cushion already placed on the ground for his pet. This would be Salem’s spot for the rest of his life there in the castle. Every banquet and celebration, he would sit there on that spot on the hard stone floors. The cushion being the only protection from the cold stones on his knees. Farran stood before his chair, facing the banquet hall which was just the same as the throne room only this time with large pillars lining the exterior. Each was polished nicely with decorative plants at the base, flowers mostly and the occasional shrubs. They were meant to give off sweet fragrances and add more color and beauty to the somewhat dreary stone hall. Farran lowered himself onto his seat with elegance, leaving Salem to stand awkwardly beside him. Farran’s lips turned up in a slight curve of satisfaction as his pet patiently awaited his order. If there weren’t so many people present, he’d be tempted to leave him standing there to see just how long he’d remain like that. But that would look poorly since this was supposed to be a celebration of their bonding and a milestone for Farran’s life as prince. He gestured with his hand towards the cushion. “Sit.”

 

Salem slowly crouched down so that he was sitting on the cushion, at first he tried to sit indian style but the skirt like garment prevented his legs from moving like that so he had to settle for resting slightly off to the side which would make him lean against the frame of his master’s chair and his thigh. Farran only gave his pet a curt glance when he felt Salem’s body press against his leg in an awkward attempt to get comfortable where he was at. He was surprised at how well he was doing so far and placed a hand in the male’s hair. Petting him like a dog in an effort to give the shifter a silent show of praise. But to Salem, the gesture felt even more degrading than being made to heel at the prince’s feet.

 

The night went on, the grand feast got into the swing of things and everyone was celebrating merrily throughout the hall. The servants kept a steady stream of wine and food circulating throughout the hall, fresh vegetables and fruits, roasted meat of pork and poultry. There were also sweet buns and smoked fish, dried cuts of venison laid out. Salem’s mouth watered as he watched a man just a table over rip a large leg off a turkey fresh off the spit. He could see the juices from the meat dripping down the man’s fingers and from his chin as he bit into the tender meat. Beside him Farran ate little, grazing on a slice of cinnamon bread and some grapes while he listened to his father’s counsel regale them with boring tales about political trips across the borders to neighboring countries and factions. His stomach growled loudly amidst all the banter and loud talk in the hall. He hadn’t eaten anything but water and a bitter broth in the last couple days due to the cleansing ritual. He would give anything for a piece of that turkey leg or a cut of venison. He’d even settle for a slice of smoked salmon. Anything at all. Yet it seemed his master was either oblivious to his hunger pains or simply could not be bothered with it.

 

As the night wore on, the King and Queen excused themselves to return to their chambers, as did much of their counsel. The dining hall was slowly emptying out but many still remained in joyous drunken revel. Salem was nearly sick with hunger beside his master, now with his back pressed against the frame of the chair and his knees drawn up to his chest. His head hung listlessly and his stomach twisting angrily in protest to the continued denial of food. If he were away to another room or outside it wouldn’t be bothering him so much. If he could escape the smells and the sights. But being stuck in the room watching it all made him feel ill. Farran’s cousin moved a chair around so he could sit across from the prince, the chair was turned backwards so he could fold his arms over the backing and lean on it while he straddled the seat. His blue eyes roaming over Farran as he grinned at his cousin. “How’s it feel being a master now Farran? Being bound to a living creature that solely depends on you.”

 

“I see you’re enjoying yourself Cassian.” Farran mused, dismissing the question for the moment as his eyes roamed over the red flush of Cassian’s face. It was obvious the Spymaster had had a little too much to drink but then again, that never stopped Cassian. “It’s too soon to say. Ask me again in a few days after the training period.”

 

“At least you got yourself a nice one. His kind are rare these days.” Cassian chuckled in amusement then turned his attention down to the male. His eyes drinking in the painted figure and admiring the tribal work the prince had done. “Marvelous job Farran. Though, is something wrong with him? I heard the cleansing had been rather rough this time around.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Farran asked in confusion and watched as Cassian pointed down towards the raven haired male. He followed his direction and noticed Salem seemed curled up and more pitiful than before. “What wrong with you?” Farran asked as he stared down at the golden eyed male. Salem shuddered with his arms crossed over his stomach.

 

“Has he eaten yet since the cleansing?” Cassian’s voice was dripping with concern. It would look poorly on the prince and would be considered a bad omen if his pet were to become sick and die so soon after the bonding. It would be read as him being unfit to care for another life let alone that of an entire kingdom.

 

Farran thought about this after a minute then shook his head, scowling down at Salem. He had thought the male would be smart enough to follow directions and ask when he wanted something. He had been warned that because the cleansing had been so hard on his body that Salem might not be able to eat for a while or want to. He assumed because his pet hadn’t gestured at him in request that he wasn’t feeling good enough to partake in the meal. But looking at him now, he couldn’t tell if it was from hunger or sickness that made him look so miserable. “No, he hasn’t. He’s been given only water because of how the cleansing went. They didn’t want to overwhelm him.” Farran explained while his blue eyes remained fixed on his pet’s form beside him.

 

“It’s getting late now. You two should head back. I’ll send a couple servants with food for him. It might do him some good to get away from all of this.” Cassian offered politely. Farran gave his cousin a respectful nod of appreciation as he hid the glare he wanted to send his way. He held his tongue as well, feeling a string of words lingering on the very tip of it ready to fire off at Cassian for sticking his nose in business it doesn’t belong in.

 

Farran gave the chain a tug, signalling for Salem to pay attention to his master now. The golden eyes looked up at the prince slowly, glancing away long enough to stare at Cassian, whom’s presence he hadn’t even noticed until now having zoned out all the rest of the noise in the room in an attempt to help settle the painful rolling of his stomach. Cassian gave him a small sympathetic smile but Salem could see the pity in the man’s eyes. Like sad blue pools that seemed to know the fate of how things will turn out for Salem as the pet of the Resparian Prince. “Stand.” Farran waited impatiently for Salem to obey, jerking his chain a few more times before giving the male another command. “Follow.” With that he turned on his heels and began to exit the dining hall which held now only about a third of the people that were originally present. Salem kept his head down and focused on every step back to the private wing. His only warning that they had arrived was the loud creaking of the heavy wooden doors that slammed shut behind them. He lifted his head to look around, finding the trays had been cleared away but the table and the spare chair remained. On it was a pitcher of fresh water, two clean glasses and a tray of food. Pieces of dried meat, some of the turkey from earlier, soft oven fresh breads, fruits and vegetables.

 

“Sit on the bed.” Farran ordered, leading the shifter over to the same spot as before. Salem obeyed as he dragged himself up onto the bed, remaining in an upright sitting position. The air in the room was fresh and cool, the only scents in it was the light scent of the food. One of the panels on the window had been pushed open just a crack to allow the cool night air to seep into the room. It helped clear out salem’s head and push off the forming headache all the strong scents from the dining hall had caused earlier. He was able to relax more now. His golden eyes glanced down at the table, the only light filling the room was that from the moonlight. Silver beams pooling in and stretching across the floor to greet them. His mind was beginning to wander when Farran’s voice brought him back to reality. “I’ll let you feed yourself as long as you hold still while I clean you up. It simply wouldn’t do to ruin the bedding with those paints.”

 

Salem responded to the words with a nod of understanding. Farran sighed heavily, noticing the look of his pet seeming to be quickly losing life. He was much more livelier before the banquet. “Speak. What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m fine sir. I just don’t feel good is all.” Salem’s words were soft, nearly a whisper but in the heavy silence of the room, they sounded all too loud in his ears.

 

Farran ran his fingers through his blond locks for a moment in thought. He sighed once more and shook his head, his disheveled locks falling neatly back into place over his eyes. “Eat. You need your strength. I would suggest sticking to the breads and fruits though. They’ll be easier on your stomach.” Salem nodded and reached out for a couple grapes in a bowl with some strawberries and wild berries. He pulled a couple of the plump purple orbs from their branch and popped one into his mouth. The sweet juice exploding over his taste buds upon the first bite and it felt like heaven in his mouth. Still, he minded what he ate and how much. Keeping a slow steady pacing even though his stomach growled angrily for more. It was enough to keep the painful twisting at bay and silence it until the next morning. All the while Farran took one of the wash rags that had been left near a standing basin. He poured a little bit of the water from the pitcher into it, enough to dampen the cloth before returning to Salem’s side. He got to work, slowly removing each marking he had put upon his pet’s skin. It required a bit more effort to scrub the thick colorful lines off. Salem was sad to see them go. They were the last reminder of his people that he bore. From now on his existence was strictly that of a royal pet and not that of the son of the wolf clan.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hold still. Hands behind your back. Come on.” Farran’s voice was already rather agitated and impatient for so early in the morning. At the first breath of dawn, he had awoke his pet up rather rudely using the slamming of the door to Salem’s room. Salem had fallen asleep sometime right after all the lines of paint had been removed and before he had finished his meal. Getting through a whole bowl of fruit and almost all the bread before dozing off in an awkward position on the bed. With one leg hanging off the edge and the rest of him stretched across the bed on his back. No need for the pillows or blankets since his exhaustion and now full belly delivered him to dreams. Yet he didn’t remember any of it and was awaken so abruptly with the prince’s words rushing him so that he’s on his feet and out the door, being tugged along by that infernal chain.

 

Now they were standing outside of a large room and Salem was still drowsy and blindfolded due to Farran wanting to start Salem’s training already. At the moment his hands were being shackled behind his back and Salem was already getting a really bad feeling about all this. Still he held his tongue and went along with it the best he could. Once his hands were secured behind his back, Farran opened the large doors and tugged on the chain signalling for him to follow. Once they were inside the room, Farran placed a hand on Salem’s chest to stop him then spoke in a soft almost gentle tone. “Now pet, listen carefully. I’m going to go to the other side of the room and you’re going to have to find your way over to me by sound alone. I trust as a wolf, your sense of hearing should be good, yes. Now then, wait right here and listen for my command.”

 

Salem nodded his understanding and listened as the prince moved across the room. Salem heard the sound of his footsteps shifting rather oddly from one direction to the next as if he were zigzagging or weaving his steps. He wondered if maybe that was to try and throw Salem off so he paid it no real mind. After a minute or so Farran finally spoke up, his voice holding more cheer in it then his previous annoyance. That set Salem’s nerves off even further. He couldn’t fathom how any of this would making the Prince’s mood change so much continuously. Other then from his usual annoyance and agitation. “Alright pet, come to me.”

 

Salem nodded and started in the prince’s direction. But he made it only a few steps before hitting his knee up against something hard and wooden. He hissed in pain and recoiled back, his hands pulling on the restraints with the urge to feel out what it is. “Come on pet. What’s the hold up?” His voice sounded much more smug as if Salem’s pain pleased him. Salem growled lowly and moved off to the side but then his ankles caught up on wooden bars and he fell over top of the object. In the process of the fall, it felt like a barstool or a chair of someworts flipped onto it’s side. Salem hit the ground shoulder first as his hands couldn’t catch him. Laughter bellowed from the other side of the room. A sound that made Salem bristle with anger but he simply growled, holding back the barbed words on his tongue. It took some effort before he was able to collect himself, with a few bruises and scrapes to go along with him. He tried to shake it off and keep moving. His hip bumped against what he thought was a dining table or a shelf, then he wracked his shin on a low level table, nearly falling to kneel on top of it as pain shot up his leg. He stumbled back and cracked the back of his head on something that felt like metal hanging down from the ceiling or the wall. Explosions of color lit up behind his eyelids and a searing white hot pain shot through his skull. He crouched down and whimpered, trying to shake it off. He was growing more and more frustrated with every blind step and Farran’s laughter and pleased voice continued to call to him from the other side of the room. He felt like he barely made it a couple feet in and just bounced from one piece of furniture to the next like a ricocheting object. “Come on pet, just a little further. If you don’t hurry we’ll be here all day. And you don’t eat or rest until you reach me.”

 

Salem rose to his feet and took a couple more cautious steps. Moving slowly, feeling out every step before he takes it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it a full five steps without bumping into something. Salem was caught off guard when something wrapped around his ankle and pulled. His supporting leg went into the air and the rest of him fell back onto the ground, landing on his bound arms. A scream of pain erupted from his chest as his elbows hit the ground first and his body weight slammed against his hands. He felt one of his fingers get pinched from the pressure and his weight wrenched on his wrists. He rolled onto his side and rested there, panting, a string of ancient cursed stumbling from his lips as he called Farran every foul thing under the sun. The words were from the language of wolves and could easily be dismissed as grunts and growls because of it’s low guttural nature. Amidst his growling cursed, Farran’s laughter bellowed from the other side of the room as if he were watching the most amusing theatre act. “Now now, I thought wolves were supposed to be fierce and graceful creatures. You’re as clumsy as a newborn foal.”

 

Farran’s voice seemed to get closer as he spoke and Salem could hear his footsteps approach, but they stopped just a little ways away. Salem figured he got close enough to see him and that was as far as he’d go. “Get up.” Farran’s words sharpened suddenly in demand. Salem growled in his anger at the words and shook his head as he got up as far as his knees. He could feel blood trickling down from his elbows where the skin was scraped up. They hurt something fierce and were tender to touch and motion. When he settled back on his haunches, glaring defiantly in the direction of the prince though the power of his dirty look was lost by his eyes being covered. It was greeted with a hard enough hit that it sent him over onto the floor again, landing on his shoulder and side mostly this time. He groaned as his arms were jostled around and could feel the sharp pain of the strike blossoming across his face. “Ungrateful beast.” The words were spit out like venom towards Salem. He moved to get up but was held down by the boot that rested over his waist, pressing down firmly as Farran spoke harshly again. “You’re going to get up and obey me or you’ll be chained in the mud with the rest of the mongrel bitches like the filthy dog you are.”

 

Salem gritted his teeth as the boot pressed down harder, grinding it’s heel into his side. His legs kicked out wildly as he tried to get enough leverage to get away from it. Farran chuckled darkly before finally letting go of Salem long enough for him to crawl awkwardly to his feet. He grimaced as he turned to face Farran, standing warily before him expecting to be struck again. Instead his chain was jerked hard, pulling him closer to his master. Salem followed it hesitantly, flinching when a hand touched his face. He flinched away but the hand simply gripped his chin firmly and held him in place. His body shook with adrenaline rushing in his veins and the blood thundering in his ears. He felt a finger touch just below the entrance of his nose and a dampness followed. It took Salem a moment to realize his nose was bleeding. He felt a soft cloth touch his nose and dab away the blood. “You obey and there will be no trouble or pain.” Farran’s voice was softer now, more gentle. A weary sigh escaped his lips as if the beating took a lot out of him or he was already feeling over with the exercise. “I’m going to direct you on how to get through the room, okay? Do exactly what I say when I say it and you won’t have to feel anymore pain. Am I understood?” Salem was confused, not by the instructions but Farran’s change in attitude. Either way, Salem nodded in agreement. Farran made a noise of approval then gripped the raven haired male by his shoulders and turned him around. “Take two steps forward the three sidesteps to your right.”

 

Salem was hesitant to follow at first, expecting this to be a trick but he took each step as directed. Each one was wary and mindful. He then stood still patiently awaiting the next set of directions. Each time they were short and very precise and Farran remained close behind his pet. It wasn’t long before Salem was given the order to stop and remain still. His chain was taken up again and a gust of fresh air blew over them. Farran jerked on the chain guiding Salem back out into the hall and letting the door slam shut behind them. Salem expected this time for the blindfold and shackles to come off but Farran gave no indication of stopping to fix his pet’s predicament, instead he paraded Salem blindly through the castle halls until they returned to the private wing. Only when they were behind the closed doors of the room did the shackles come off but not the blindfold yet. The shifter listened to the Prince move about the room and drawers opening and closing. He could hear Farran muttering to himself then he went quiet when he returned to Salem’s side. He pushed his pet back so he was sitting on the bed and took Salem’s hands into his as he very gingerly touched his bruised wrists and scraped knuckles. “This will sting a little.” The prince warned before gently dabbing a damp cloth on his knuckles. There was a medicine on the cloth that made the wounds sting angrily and the smell was bitter and sour, a potent concoction that burned his nostrils.

 

Once those were cleaned, a salve was administered then each wound was bandaged to prevent infection. This process was repeated for Salem’s scraped and bloodied elbows and Farran even wiped the blood off his face. “I’m going to be gone for the rest of the day. I have several important meetings I need to attend to. Normally you would accompany me but you’re in no shape to be making such appearances so you’ll remain here.” Farran explained as he finished up the last of the bandages. “There, stand up.” He ordered and Salem followed. Farran took the chain and unhooked it from the front of his collar and repositioned it to the clip on the back then slid it down along Salem’s back. On the skirt like garment Salem has been wearing, there are five loops going around the waist. One in the front, one on each hip then just below the small of his back are two more, one on either side of his spine. The chain was fixed in between these two before looping through them one by one until the end clip met bach at the center point at the base of his spine. It was like an odd belt. It didn’t hinder much range of motion, he just couldn’t bend forward too far. It was a symbol that he was owned and made easy placement for the leash when the master doesn’t need to use it but also keeping it handy without the hassle of carrying it around all the time. The chain itself wasn’t heavy, made of strong slender links. It looked more like an accessory piece then a tool.

 

“In a little bit, the servants will bring you your breakfast. You have permission to eat at your own leisure since I won’t be around. Be mindful of your weakness from the cleansing. I don’t want you making yourself sick.” Farran chastised his pet since he didn’t really pace himself too well the night before. Luckily he fell asleep before much trouble could come about from it. “You’re not to leave this room. There will be guards posted to keep an eye on you. You may take the blindfold off but only once I’ve left. Am I understood? Speak.”

 

“Yes sir.” Salem said in quick response. The prince made a thoughtful sound then gently ruffled Salem’s hair.

 

The shifter’s ears followed the sound of footsteps toward the door. There was a pause as the door opened. Then a soft spoken reminder. “Be good Salem. I’ll be back either tonight or early tomorrow.” Then with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

  


_Later~_

  


Farran didn’t return that night nor did he return early the next morning like he had promised. He had one meeting after another and sometimes overlapping as well as more Master training he was forced to sit through. When he arrived to these appointments and meetings, the first question on everyone’s lips was asking where Salem was. It was customary for the Prince’s pet to follow him everywhere he went. Farran explained that the royal pet hadn’t been feeling well since the cleansing. There was always a knowing sound since that news had spread about like wildfire. It was unheard of for such complications to happen during a royal pet’s cleansing and many saw it as an ill omen for the Prince. That this bonding would be problematic from the start. It was also a very odd bonding, the first to be done with a male member of the wolf clan. The other’s in the past had been done with female members of the beast tribe and they have almost all been from the wild cat clan. When a bonding was done between a princess and a pet, it was a more often done using a male member from the bear clan. Occasionally a male wild cat member and a female bear clan member would be used. It all had to do with the gender of the chief’s children. Since the chief of the beast tribe had two sons and the heads of the other clans had yet to have offspring that was of age. Many of them still in their adolescence, this led to being the first bonding between two males and the first bonding within the wolf clan.

 

By the time he finished at the end of the day, he was so tired he just returned to his room. And likewise for the second day. It would seem everyone was keeping him busy and away from his pet. Every time he’d leave the conference room to go check on Salem, someone would come pouncing from the woodworks and sweep him away to discuss another completely useless matter for several hours. He had enough time to remind the servants to ensure meals were being delivered to his pet throughout the day and even ordered a hot bath be drawn for him. The servants were only allowed to escort Salem from his room to the stone bath and then back. A healer was also sent to help change him into some different attire and tend to his wounds. When questioned where the wounds came from, he told them the shifter stumbled during one of their trainings and tripped over the furniture. Nobody ever questioned further after that.

 

By the morning of the third day, he was hearing whispers of a raucous coming from the private wing where his pet was being held. At the time, his father was by his side as he escorted him to their next meeting. It wasn’t one that Farran had to attend but his father requested he be present for it. The king had noticed his son was distracted by the idle gossip and decided to speak up. “Ignore it Farran. Your pet will be alright. He’s simply going through a phase all of the Beast Tribe pets go through when captive for so long. Within a day or so it’ll cease and he’ll be more obedient than ever before.”

 

“But Father, what _is_ going on? What phase?” Farran was confused and deeply worried by these words. He had never heard of this so called _Phase_ in any of his prep training.

 

The king seemed surprise that his son had no idea what he was talking about and decided to elaborate. “Every pet from the Beast Tribe acts out sometime after the collaring and cleansing. Normally it only takes a couple days before it dies down but Salem’s seem to be dragging out. It’s their wild spirit. They’re so accustomed to being free and living in the bushes and mud that they have a sort of tantrum. It usually comes in a range of emotions and they’ll be spewing all sorts of nonsense. Just simply ignore it. But understand well Farran, no matter what he says or does. You _cannot_ remove his collar. Even if he begs you to. It is unsafe to do so especially when they’re unhinged like this.” His father’s words were sharp and pressed him to remember them. Still, Farran had an ill feeling in his stomach that told him it didn’t add up.

 

“Excuse me Father, but I’m going to have to leave this meeting to you. I need to see to a few things in preparation for my next lesson.” With that, Farran turned and left his father standing in the hallway outside of the conference chambers. His father staring at the fleeing figure dumbfounded by the sudden retreat.

 

Of course it was all a lie since the first and only place on Farran’s mind was the Private wing. He hadn’t even entered the hall and he could hear the banging coming from his pet’s room. The heart rending pleas that echoed down the halls, causing a handful of servants to gather in the entryway to find out what the raucous was about. All of them were completely shocked to see the Prince charging down the hall with a dark look of displeasure at his pet’s actions. They all scattered and uttered a myriad of polite apologies but the words were lost to the sounds of Salem’s cries. He stopped at the door leading to his pet’s room and turned to face the servants, giving them a look and without needing to say a single word, they fled the wing. The only ones remained were two guardsmen standing at the ready in case the shifter attacked. “Back to your posts.” Farran’s words were a low growl of anger that sent the guards scurrying away like frightened mice when the barn cat comes prowling. With the hall empty, Farran faced the door, reaching for the handle with venomous words on his tongue but he froze before turning the lever. Hearing terrified words as the banging ceased.

 

“Please...he’s going to die.”


	5. Chapter 5

_Salem found himself walking through an empty village. Every hut and log home was empty as he passed and it looked as if everyone had suddenly up and left. There were fish lying on the cutting boards in the butchering hut, their bellies split open and their cuts for a fillet started but abandoned halfway through. The blade still sticking out of the meat. There were fires still going in all the pits and hearths, doors left open, swaying in the wind. There were drawing in the earth, one by some of the children using sticks as they drew out block patterns with their native symbols drawn in the centers. There were pots and kettles left over the fires, some of them boiling over from being unattended. A burnt rabbit remained on a spit, one of the legs had completely caught fire and other fires had died down to just hot coals, having gone unfed for so long. “Hello?”_

 

_Salem’s voice echoed throughout the empty village. He was answered by the whispers on the wind. They were terrified and spoke of the dreaded creature. The one cursed for death. He grew uneasy as even those whispers were silenced when he reached the center of his village near the well. A water bucket left half full sitting on the brickwork. A low grumble came from behind him. The sound wasn’t directly at his back but a ways away. He froze, standing stone still as the grumbling turned into pained growls and gurgling. Like a voice under the waves. A low whine called out to him, drawing his attention. He felt something like a rope pull at his chest, forcing him to turn around and face the creature as slow stumbling steps dragged across the earth._

 

_He was met with a terrifying sight as Silvestri limped along across the ground. His massive powerful legs trembled weakly as they struggled to hold him up. His thick flowing fur, as black as the darkest night fell like ashes from his flesh. Beneath his fur, the supple healthy pink flesh was pale and where muscle and flesh made up most of his bulk were sores, lesions and gaping wounds over flesh pulled tightly like a straining canvas over frail bones. He collapsed a few feet in front of Salem. His long sharp nails were fractured and bloody. His sharp canines were rotted and dull, gums white and bleeding. His muzzle was grey and his golden eye lost their light, steadily turning white and unable to see. A long low keening whine spilled from his chest but was cut off by more gurgling sounds. Then a thick sludge like substance pooled from his gaping jaws with fragments of bone amidst it and Salem realized it was pieces of the wolf’s own teeth. The thick sludge turned from the dark rotting brown color to a near black. When it spilled out onto the ground, Salem was able to see it was blood. He gasped sharply as he cried out to the wolf who’s eyes closed. “Silvestri!”_

 

_The pull in his chest materialized before him as a long golden chain that was fixed in the center of both of their chests. Then a silver collar appeared around Silvestri’s throat, the object glowing a sickly purple color and the flesh around it rotting and peeling away in chunks. Silvestri’s previously labored breaths hastened to a gasping struggle before settling out. The golden chain shattered into billions of tiny fragments that crumbled to dust and was blown away by the mourning sounds of the wind. The flesh fell from his bones into a giant gelatinous pool with a vile stench that burned Salem’s nostrils and made him gag._

  


Salem was awoken by the sudden urge to vomit, nearly vaulting off the bed and rushing to a waste bin. He dropped to his knees and held the bin for dear life as he retched up everything his stomach contained which was rather pitiful since his appetite never really did return since the cleansing. It only waned and grew worse. Tears streamed down his chest and the collar around his throat felt unbearably tight. He closed his eyes and tried to call out to Silvestri but the wolf was eerily quiet for once. His prolonged silence through Salem into a panic. He paced about the room and ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly as time went by. He was praying to the gods that Farran returned. He hadn’t seen him in going on two days. If he wasn’t pacing like a madman, he was clinging to the waste bin like a lifeline and curled up on the floor, trembling weakly. When the servants came to see him to deliver his meal, they were extremely worried  by the sight. They were given orders to take Salem to the bathing room just down the hall and clean him up. They hoped that would improve his status. They enlisted the healer’s help and they added an assortment of soothing mixtures to the bath but the soak was short lived as Salem hung over the side of the stones and retched up nothing but fluid into a waste bin provided by the servants. They dressed him in something much more comfortable and looser then returned him to his room. They cracked the window hoping the fresh air would help and gave him bread and soup. But Salem didn’t eat. Could barely keep water down. He seemed feverish by the next day.

 

The servants raised alarm about the situation but the King told them it was nothing to worry the Prince over. That it was expected. Though none of the servants expecting this or the fact the King was keeping it from his son. Constantly making Farran attend one useless meeting after the other that the prince didn’t even have to be at or was expected to attend. The screaming from salem and banging on the doors to his room was unexpected and none of them knew what to do. The guards stood at the ready for him to get out and get completely out of control. But before that could happen, the Prince was storming down the hall with a look that could split oceans. Everyone rushed to get out of his way.

 

Inside the room, Salem was leaning against the door, having been beating on the heavy wood until his hands were black and blue from the force. The sides of his hands swollen and bruised, tender to the touch. He had been at it all morning long and it was now mid afternoon and not a single person has come. He’s been calling out for Farran. For someone to get Farran. Pleading and crying. His face tear streaked and his body shaking from weakness. He hadn’t eaten anything in two days and everything he had eaten prior to that was retched up. He couldn’t take any of the medicines the healers could give him due to his sensitivity to it. Even small doses would be too much for him and would make him violently ill.

 

He wasn’t expecting the door to open when it did and he fell back onto his back with wide startled eyes. Farran’s figure stepped into the room with an imposing presence. It made Salem shrink back away from him. Dark blue eyes seemed to bore right through him, causing Salem to stumble for words. Before he could speak, a snarl left Farran’s lips. It was obvious he was furious at the shifter. “What vile demon has possessed you you useless mongrel?” His voice sliced through the silence of the room. The door slammed shut behind him as Farran stepped closer, causing Salem to draw back even further. His own golden eyes terrified as Farran reached for him. He flinched away and threw his arms up in front of him in self defense. Farran paused in his action when the golden eyes closed and the bruised hands were raised. Instead of reaching for Salem’s collar, he took hold of his wrists. “What in the name of the gods did you do?”

 

He pulled Salem to his feet by his wrists but the shifters legs buckled beneath him. Farran tugged harder on the shifter but only succeeded in jerking the male’s body more towards him like a rag doll weighed down by lead. “Get up.” Farran ordered but Salem shook his head slowly. “I said get up!” Farran demanded in a harsher tone. Salem’s voice broke and a sob wracked his chest painfully. His shoulders shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks once more, dripping down onto his clothing. The white satin robe Salem was wearing was soaked from his tears falling and trailing down the front. His head hung and Farran release his wrists. In a split second Salem had wrapped his arms around Farran’s leg. His grip was pitifully weak and his body leaning against it as if he hadn’t enough strength to keep himself upright. He was about to snatch him up by his hair, his fingers already weaving through the short raven locks when a voice broke the silence.

 

“Please...he’s dying. Please take it off. He’s dying….” Salem’s voice trailed off as he struggled through the onslaught of sobs. “It’s killing him.”

 

Farran was genuinely confused now. He gripped Salem’s hair in his fingers and drew his head back so his golden eyes were looking up at him. “Who’s dying Salem?”

 

“Silvestri..” Salem breathed. Farran opened his mouth to speak when he saw a single line of crimson streak from Salem’s nose. A few heartbeats later his golden eyes rolled back in his head and his body went completely still. Then it started convulsing wildly.

 

“Salem?’ Farran asked then blurted louder when he saw his pet start shaking. “Salem!”  He laid him down and held his head away from the floor as his pet seized up. He screamed at the top of his lungs. “Help! Someone help!” His blue eyes turning to his pet, feeling completely helpless in stopping whatever was wrong with his pet at the moment. It didn’t take long for guards to storm into the room with swords drawn as if expecting some rabid beast but were dumbfounded when they saw the prince kneeling next to his twitching pet. Then the shaking stopped all together and his body went still. Blood streaming down the side of his face and his body limp against the floor.

 

“Call for the healers!” One of the guards ordered and two more rushed off. The world was a blur of blue uniforms swirling around him as guards and servants filled the room. All the while, Farran felt frozen. Salem’s last words ringing in his ears over and over again. As were his father’s warnings earlier that morning. This was more than just a simple childish temper tantrum. His pet was severely ill and the rest of his family was playing it off as nothing. Telling him to ignore it. That all the pets go through it. Farran had a sick feeling of his own swirling around in the pit of his stomach and he didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t know who to trust anymore and so he was simply going to go with his gut and cut everyone else out of the equation because none of them have been any help whatsoever.

 

The healers rushed in and made everyone else leave the room, except for the prince and a few choice servants who were assisting in retrieving different items that were necessary. They cleaned Salem up and put him in bed. The final diagnosis was that he needed rest. That was the cure all to everything apparently. Just rest. His pet has been resting for days and has been getting worse with each passing. Ever since the cleansing. It was getting out of hand. When the healers couldn’t do any more for his pet, he sent them away, leaving him alone with Salem. He sat beside his bed in a chair he had one of the servants bring in. As well as some soup and bread and fresh fruit. Farran hoped that if, no, when Salem woke up, he would get him to eat a little.

 

While he waited the words of his father and his pet swirled around inside his head, fighting each other wildly in a battle for power. After a couple hours, he finally gave into his gut instincts. He didn’t trust what his father had said, since he now knew the King knew of Salem’s condition and neglected to tell him. That he was toting him around from one ridiculous meeting to the next when he should have been spending that time bonding with his pet and training him on how to be the proper royal servant. He growled in frustration, blaming himself for not seeing the problem sooner and returning to the raven haired male. He reached over to smooth the dark locks back from his face. His skin felt like it were burning up and his flushed features told him he was feverish and had been for some time now. Long enough that he should have been told. But he pushed that aside and reminded himself that it’s too late now to fret about what should have been. He needed to focus on making Salem better.

 

A thought nagged at him though. About the mentioning of the collar. He lowered his hand to rest around Salem’s throat, touching the polished silver. It was just a collar. It was used to keep the male’s inner beast in line. There shouldn’t have been any problems with it...unless..

 

Farran dug into his pocket and produced the key he had for the collar and examined the elegant silver design on the hilt. He sighed in contemplation for a long while. If he did remove the collar, Salem was obviously too weak to cause any trouble. So it shouldn’t be any problem. Yet he hesitated. He cursed himself and reached for the locked clasp off to the side and unlocked it, removing the silver collar just as a bright golden light flashed in the room and a static charge was released. It forced Farran to close his eyes and draw away but when he looked back, he saw a massive black wolf lying in the bed beside Salem. Well, that is, it looked like the specter of a wolf. It was almost see through and laid limply on the blankets, looking even worse than Salem did. His body was frail and thin. His fur was falling off in patches. On his chest was a silver marking and it took Farran a minute to realize it was the mark of Salem’s tattoo. The massive wolf bared the mark as well. Beside the mark was a golden clasp with a brittle looking gold chain snaking across the blankets to a similar clasp fixed into Salem’s chest.

 

The prince marvelled at the sight before him but his hands gripped the collar tightly. He took a deep breath then growled, turning to pitch the silver object across the room. It bounced off the wall and rolled across the floor to rest underneath the dresser. Easily out of sight but not out of the prince’s mind. Far from it actually but he hoped without the cursed accessory, the two would get better.

 

In the meantime, he would have to keep this a secret. Locking the door to the room and only opening it to pick up the fresh supplies that were left for them. He refused to leave the room and slept in the chair or the window bench. Never going too far from Salem or Silvestri and jumping up alert and ready whenever a groan or movement came from the two. But they remained asleep and otherwise unresponsive. Even as Farran spoke soft words to his pet, urging him to fight and get better. To not let this be the end of him.

 

Two days had passed since Salem’s collapse and the collar’s removal. Neither really seemed to be improving even in the slightest and that worried Farran even more. Every hour he tried to coax water down the male’s throat to get him to drink something. Sitting Salem upright and giving him small amounts at a time but he was afraid to give him too much and have him choke. He often found himself pacing around the room in thought. His thoughts broken by a heavy knock on the door. A moment later, Cassian’s voice could be heard on the other side. “Farran, open up. I’ve got some medicine the healers sent.”

 

“Are you alone?” Farran asked as he neared the door but didn’t yet open it. He listened intently for any sounds that would deem otherwise.

 

“Yeah, it’s just me. Don’t worry.” Cassian reassured with a soft casual tone. His concern was barely being concealed. Farran reached for the handle and paused in thought for a long moment. He opened the door just a fraction of the way, just enough to look out at Cassian while using his body to block the view of the inside of the room. “Farran, you look terrible.” Cassian said with a furrowing of his brows and a frown. The prince did look terrible with the start of dark under eye circles. This whole process of the bonding, even before Salem arrived had him facing many long and stressful sleepless nights. He hadn’t been eating much either, even during the banquet held in their honor and celebrating Farran’s step closer to the throne. He hardly ate a thing, spending most of his time nibbling on bread and sipping the wine. “Are you going to let me in?” Cassian asked when Farran continued to block the door from letting the Spymaster any sight inside.

 

“First, promise me you won’t tell anybody about what you see. Not the healers or priests, not even my father. Understand?” Farran’s voice was strained. He needed help but he didn’t know who he could trust to assist him. And he was afraid that he alone wouldn’t make Salem get any better.

 

Cassian was even more worried than before but he nodded in agreement. “I promise. Now are you going to tell me what’s going on and let me in?” Farran looked away from Cassian for a moment to check on Salem who remained asleep in the bed, having not moved an inch in more than a day. He sighed and held the door open, stepping aside enough to let Cassian in before shutting and locking the door quickly. Before Farran could turn, he heard Cassian gasp in alarm. “Farran, what did you do?” The spymaster blurted in disbelief. As Farran turned, he saw Cassian slowly and very carefully approaching the bed as if expecting one or both unconscious forms to suddenly come to life and lunge at him. “Why isn’t the collar suppressing them?”

 

Farran shook his head and ran his fingers through his disheveled blond locks. They were starting to get oily from not leaving the room to visit the baths. Even though they were just down the hall, he was afraid Salem’s condition would worsen and he wouldn’t be able to save him. “I took it off.”

 

“Why?” Cassian turned towards his cousin with complete disbelief.

 

Farran shook his head and sighed, sitting in the chair beside the bed again. “Because it was killing him.”

 

“That’s just a phase-”

 

“No it’s not!” Farran blurted angrily. He was right back on his feet and staring his cousin down eye to eye. He cleared his throat and looked back over at Salem before sitting back down. “They just tell you that so you don’t know the truth. Just look at them Cassian. Look at them and tell me it’s just a phase. That _that_ is nothing to worry about.” Farran gestured to the sickly pallor of Salem and the frail ethereal form of Silvestri. Cassian reached out to touch the wolf, drawn in by the curiosity of if his hand would pass through the wolf but he stopped, feeling the icy chill seeping off of Silvestri’s form. It sent a static charge along his body that felt like thousands of insects on his skin crawling around all at once. He recoiled his hand back and gave a uneasy shudder of revulsion. It was like the chill of the grave reached out and touched him. That was not a feeling he wanted to reexperience.

 

“I see. I’m sorry.” He turned back to face Farran who was watching from the chair. His head resting tiredly in his hand, his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. He had a sad look in his eyes, pity for the prince who looked worn thin and at his limits. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like, being bonded to another living being like that and then watching helplessly as they slowly die before your eyes. In the past, there was no problems like this with the previous pets bonded to the last generations. But everything about this bonding was different. The bonding itself was strange because of the pairing. Being the first wolf clan member bonded and the fact both were male which had never been done of the same sex before. But Salem was acutely sensitive to everything. The slightest drug or drink had severe effects on him. He wondered if that hypersensitivity went for the collars as well. If maybe it was affecting him more or harder than all the rest prior. He sighed and looked back at the unconscious pair on the bed and spoke softly. His words were sincere and determined. “What can I do to help?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up. This won't be updated for at least a month. I'm getting slammed with events and major projects for the next month or so and I've been funneling all of my attention into those as well as working on a series of fanfictions for another fandom. So until I have time to get back to my muse with Farran and Salem, this will be on hold for a little while.

The priest’s archives were a rather dark place that gave even the spymaster the creeps. The endless rows of dusty old oak shelves held captive in the stifling upper quarters of the high tower of the castle. These precious tomes and scriptures were held where it would be high up and should any wish to break in, it would be near impossible to escape once detected. The only route being the long spiral staircase through multiple levels of priests and scholars living quarters. And the windows were narrow and the outside of the tower, should one even be able to reach it, was weather worn with a smooth exterior. Making scaling the brickwork an impossible task. That is, for the inexperienced thief. But this was Respa’s most esteemed and feared spymaster here. It was no small task getting inside the collective works. But finding the necessary documents in the darkness was another problem.

 

The shelves were over encumbered and some of the documents looked like they haven’t been disturbed since being placed on the groaning oak surfaces. With the faintest candle light, he began his search with an general idea where the documents might be that he needs. There is a section of the archive that is locked away. The only keys leading inside are held by the King himself and the the high priest. Cassian had made as close a copy as he could of the original from memory alone and with some additional effort and finaggling, he finally freed the lock from the old iron gate and slipped inside. Dusting off a couple of the tomes to read the worn and frayed leather bindings. Some of the spines were falling apart and a few of the documents looked so frail he was fearful to so much as breath near them. It took a long time and a lot of dust before he finally found a couple books that held the necessary information he was seeking.

 

He slipped the books into his satchel just as distant voices could be heard climbing the steps to the archives. Ghosting through the maze of shelves in the darkness, he made his way to one of the narrow windows and shimmied through the gap, repelling his way down the side of the tower and to the castle battlements below. He collected his rope and stuffed it into his satchel and scaled his way across the servant quarter’s rooftops, heading for the stables. Keeping to the shadows and using the dark of the night as cover. Luck was on his side as the mood remained hidden behind thick blankets of clouds.

 

He hopped onto his horse which he had left saddled and ready just outside the gates off into the woods. Making a point earlier in the day to make himself appear to leave to deliver some documents for one of the generals in town earlier that evening. All was going according to plan so far. As he rode his horse off towards Beast Clan territory, his mind roamed over what he and Farran had discussed earlier that day.

  
  


_“There’s no denying it Cassian. He’s dying.” Farran spoke firmly to his cousin. Running his fingers through his hair and releasing an exasperated sigh. “Doesn’t it strike you odd, that the King refused to tell me of Salem’s condition? That during the time of bonding, my father’s court was forcing me to be absent to my pet and spend all of my time away? It breaks tradition.”_

 

_“It is strange Farr. But maybe there’s an explanation for this that we’re not seeing-”_

 

_“Bullshit! There’s an explanation alright but they refuse to divulge it.  Something has been off about this entire arrangement since the beginning. I want to know what.” Farran’s voice had risen and gained a sharper edge before he suddenly quieted down, his blue eyes darting towards Salem and Silvestri who continued their uneventful sleep. He sat back into his chair and placed a hand over his face, running it down over his eyes._

 

_“Where should we start? If it’s information you want, I’ll help. I want to know what’s going on as much as you do Farran. Let me help.”_

 

_There was a long thoughtful silence that fell between the two men. Farran’s eyes, normally so cold towards the wolf shifter, were now soft and sad. Watching the slow rise and fall of his pet’s chest. So painfully slow. Farran had been watching it for days. Each time, dreading that it will stop. That his chest would cease to rise and he would lose them both. Silvestri’s body was littered with red splotches and sores. It pained Farran that he couldn’t help the other wolf due to his ethereal form. Both of the trapped in this death like sleep, suffering and in pain. He was supposed to be King and he felt so helpless that he couldn’t help his own pet. After the long pause, he finally broke it, taking in a deep slow inhale before letting it out and standing up. “First thing’s first, I need to know what’s behind this. If it’s the collar and why they would be doing this to him. I want to know what the point of that collar is and if the effects can be reverse. Secondly, I need to know everything about Salem and Silvestri. What their bond is and if this has ever happened to anyone within the beast clans before. Be as discreet as possible. I don’t want the chief’s riled up and the truce to be broken.”_

 

_“Understood. Anything else?” Cassian asked in a soft tone._

 

_Farran returned with an even smaller more fragile voice like none Cassian has ever heard come from those lips. “Yes, please Cassian. Hurry. I can’t lose him.”_

  
  


It took two and a half hours at breakneck speed on horseback before Cassian had crossed over into Beast Clan territory. He push his horse to it’s limits all the way there until the telltale signs of the clan started to appear. Territorial markings on trees and patches of earth. Claw marks gouging deeply into the wood, scent marking and breaking through the bark of trees near the roads. Animal bones littered along the paths as wagon roads vanished and became foot paths. Forcing Cassian off his horse, tying it up to a nearby tree. He recognized the area well from the last time he had come here. It was to retrieve Salem himself. The boy was nothing like what he appeared now back then. It was only a couple weeks time that had passed since the entire process started but Salem had changed. It was obvious he was no longer one of his people now. His tribal markings and clothing taken from him. Stripped of everything that had to do with his home.

 

It wasn’t a surprise to Cassian when he heard the soft rustling in the woods. He could feel the eyes of predators on him from up the road when he steered off the trading path and onto the wilder roads. Following a path only the incredibly brave or unimaginably stupid would go. Cassian wasn’t quite sure which one of those categories he fell into at the moment as he literally was walking into a den of wolves. Well, not quite literally since the Beast Clans resided in small farming villages. Not much different from any other rural village in the middle of the wilderness except that all of it’s people were adorn in colorful painted markings and clothes made from animal hides. Each held a natural beauty to them if one cared to look beneath the gruff exterior of the beast.

 

Cassian followed the trail to the outskirts of the village where he was intercepted by a hunting party. Six wolf clan members met him, two of them still in the form of their wolves while the other for stood, armed with bows at the ready to greet the outsider. Cassian held up a wolf fang pendant with etched with black markings against the white bone. It was a familiar sight to the hunters as the pendant once belonged to Salem. It was something he had to give up before the cleansing. He is only what Farran allows and the pendant wasn’t something Farran was fond of allowing. Though he didn’t throw it away either. Surprisingly enough, he kept Salem’s things from when he arrived, locked away in a box inside his room. Cassian was glad the pendant had been saved and set aside as now it was his only way to get to the Chief of the wolf clan.

 

Cassian was quietly escorted into the village. As expected, being the early hours of morning before dawn is even set to break, the village feels empty. The people are tucked safely away inside their homes, sound asleep and unknowing that a stranger was entering their territory. He was guided through the main square where a few different fires were left, the hot coals glowing red, seemingly forgotten. He passed by a well that was in the dead center of the village and headed up a slight slope towards a more prominent residence. There, firelight could be seen through the windows and a figure was sitting before the fire. The head of the hunting clan knocked on the door and was answered in a guttural snarling language. The language of wolves.

 

The sounds passed back and forth between the man inside and those outside until finally the door was opened. A young man that resembled Salem had answered. He had piercings in his ears and white painted markings around his throat, outlined in red markings of the same. The young man was obviously older than Salem but had lines under his eyes that made him look much older. It took Cassian a moment to realize the lines, in the dim lighting were actually scars instead of his previous assumption of them being wrinkles or worry lines. This wolf’s golden orbs were harder than Salem’s and they watched Cassian like he was prey and nothing more. He was led to a seat at a dining table though the welcoming was far from warm but he expected as much. Despite the truce between the Kingdom of Respa and the Beast Clans of Vavra, the clans didn’t take the presence of royal dogs very well.

 

“Why have you come here? And carrying the mark of the chief’s youngest son?” The young wolf demanded with a sharp tone. He stood adjacent the table, leaning his back against the wall and his arms folded across his chest. His chest puffed out, giving off an intimidating appearance. If Cassian were some whelp, he might have fallen for it but this wasn’t his first time dealing with beasts like Salem’s older brother.

 

“I need information about your people and their bond to their inner beast. It’s imperative that I obtain it.” Cassian stated calmly.

 

“Why would we tell you anything like that?” The young wolf snarled at Cassian, standing up straight now and glaring at the spymaster.

 

“Because it could mean life or death for Salem.”

 

“What did you say? What have you done to him?!” The wolf growled and made a move towards Cassian but was stopped by the abrupt rise of the chief from his chair. The wolf looked up puzzled. “Father?”

 

“Let the man speak.” The chief’s words were firm and held a power that shook the other wolves in the room to their core. Cassian was amazed as he watched both the oldest son and the lead hunter shrink back to the shadows in submission. Silencing them completely.

 

“Thank you sir.” Cassian said respectfully, giving an appreciative bow of his head before starting to explain. “Salem is sick right now. Something isn’t right. Ever since the cleansing, nothing has gone correctly. His body doesn’t accept anything our healers try to do to help and he keeps getting weaker and weaker. Then the other day, he collapsed suddenly. His wolf appeared beside him like a ghost and they’re bound together by a chain. My Prince has remained at his side since but he isn’t getting any better. We know nothing about Salem or what could be causing this. The Prince is desperate to save him and he needs your help. We need to know what could be causing this, what makes Salem different from the others.”

 

The chief nodded along throughout the explanation then when Cassian stopped, he fell into a thoughtful silence. He stroked a graying beard, the dark stubble covering his lower jaw. There was no doubt about it that the chief was Salem’s father. He had the same golden eyes but where Salem’s were soft like morning sunlight through a foggy field and his brother’s were sharp like a ceremonial dagger, these were old and dull. Losing their shine from old age. His once long black hair was now sweeping silver strands hanging freely down his back and over his shoulders. His face was worn with a foot map of wrinkles and skin tight and leathery from many days facing the harsh weather. “What makes Salem different is his bond with his wolf.” His voice was old and reminded Cassian of a crackling fire nestled in a hearth during a winter storm.

 

“What do you mean by that? Aren’t all bonds the same?”

 

“Not in this case. Normally a member of the beast clan has complete and total dominance over their inner wolves. We conquer them and gain control. Becoming the masters of ourselves but Salem is different. He never fought his wolf for power of dominance. He has no control over Silvestri. This made his wolf wild and unpredictable. Silvestri could take over whenever it pleased and in a few instances it did. But only in defense of Salem.” The chief explained. He sat back in the chair across from Cassian and sighed.  “We believe this makes us weaker by not having control. But allowing Silvestri his freedom, though against our clan’s laws, Salem was stronger in another sense. He was weak, he wasn’t a fighter or a hunter. But he was wiser for it. He had immense compassion much like his late mother. And just like her, he also inherited a sensitivity that goes beyond what other wolves of our clan have. Your medicines will do more harm then good for him I’m afraid. You said a chain had formed between him and his wolf, correct?”

 

“Yes, that is correct. A gold chain. And the wolf is like a phantom by his side. It can’t be touched.” Cassian explained.

 

“I see. If Silvestri has manifested beside Salem then it means Silvestri is dying.” The Chief stated sadly. “If we claim dominance over our inner wolves, we can control that chain that links us too it and sever it at will. Even if the link is severed and our inner wolf dies, we will not die ourselves. We just become weaker. More mundane. But because Salem did not claim dominance over Silvestri, he is Silvestri’s equal. As if they are the same life force. If one dies, so does the other. The upside is if you can heal one, then the other will be healed as well.” The chief rose from his seat and made his way over to a large wooden trunk with intricate carvings of animals in tribal designs. It tells an old story from the beginning of their people. It is a common design among their people.

 

He unlocked the trunk and dug down inside until he reached the bottom. There a wooden box was kept. It was small, no bigger than one’s hand when held out flat. It was three inches long, two inches tall and two inches wide. A dark marking was burned into the top of the box. An intricate carving that matched the one on Salem’s wolf fang pendant. It was his family mark. “Here, take this. Inside is a pouch of dried herbs. Disperse them into a pool of water and submerge Salem and Silvestri within. Silvestri should return to Salem and he should get better from there. Do not give him any other herbs or medicines from your people.” The chief warned as he handed the wooden box over to Cassian.

 

Cassian cradled it in his arms and nodded his understanding. “Yes sir. Thank you.”

  
  
  
  


It was another long trip back to the kingdom with the precious cargo tucked safely within his satchel. Cassian was determined to get back before the sun rose. Pushing his horse harder than ever before. Making it just as the first glimmer of daylight was beginning to creep over the horizon. He ran as fast as he possibly could until his legs were sore and shaking up the many stairs of the castle to the private wing. Not giving a thought towards any of the guards or servants that looked his way in confusion. Bursting through the doors of Salem’s room. The large heavy door slammed shut, nearly scaring Farran half to death. He jolted out of his seat, bleary eyed and confused, whirling around on Cassian as if ready for a brawl. Sharp words hanging from his tongue like venom but his eyes widened when he saw Cassian. The Prince lunged towards the spymaster who was bent over gasping, trying to catch his breath. “Cassian! Did you find anything? Please tell me you found something. Come on. Spit it out!”

 

Cassian waved Farran off as he started to dig through his satchel for the needed object while still regaining his composure. “This castle has too many stairs.” He grumbled as he pulled out the wooden box. “This will help him. Grab Salem and take him to the bathing room. Hurry.” Cassian directed and Farran didn’t delay. Rushing over to the smaller male and scooping up his pale sweat soaked form. His dark hair plastered to his forehead and his breathing becoming more labored. A wheezing sound had started making itself known within the last hour and Silvestri’s form had gotten smaller it seemed. As if he was becoming old and frail. Wasting away before Farran’s eyes.

 

Farran gathered up the smaller male into his arms and carried Salem, following Cassian out of the doors and towards the bathing room. A couple guards watched from a distance in confusion as the trio walked in the opposite direction with a phantom wolf gliding behind them.

 

It only took a few minutes before they were locked away inside the bathing room and Cassian began filling the marble tub with warm water. In the meantime, Farran stripped Salem’s clothes away and gently stroked the dark locks out of his face. Several minutes later and Cassian opened the small pine box and removed the pouch from inside. Carefully dispersing the herbs into the water and letting them work their way into it. Starting to fill the room with an earthy aroma. The scent alone drew a soft sound from Salem’s chest but it was weak. So very weak. “Cass, how much longer?”

 

“Don’t worry. It’s ready.” Cassian informed. Farran nodded and carried Salem to the marble steps and slowly began descending into the warm water. He made sure to keep Salem’s head resting against his shoulder and above the water line as he waded out into the center of the tub. The water was up to his breastbone at this point.

 

Both men watched with bated breath for a sign that this was working. But as the minutes passed by, Farran felt his heart start to sink, becoming far more desperate. He held Salem firmly against his chest and cursed under his breath. “Why isn’t it working?!” He screamed at Cassian. His face twisted in pain. Cassian stood frozen in place, words failing him as he has never seen such emotions to cross his cousin’s face before. The despair that contorted his normally distant and aloof features. That usually cold and calculating facade shattered in strife.

 

He held Salem closely as if loosening his grip will cause the wolf to be ripped from his grasp. Like a child does a small fragile doll. Pressing his forehead against the weakening wolf’s. Tears fell from his eyes as anger and frustration welled up inside him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Salem. I’m sorry for being so cruel to you. For leaving you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t see what was wrong in time.” His voice cracked and wavered. “I was just trying to protect you.”

 

A soft light started to form below the surface. A gasp broke free from Farran’s lips as a pain jolted through his chest. He looked down and saw a gold chain forming at the base of his sternum. It stretched out like a serpent and connected to Salem’s and Silvestri’s. The chain that seemed so fragile and brittle looked stronger and thicker now. The golden shine from the chains continued to increase. Becoming brighter and hotter, forcing Farran to look away to shield his eyes but he never let go of Salem. The water bubbled up around them like a geiser was forming beneath them then began to splash over the marble sides.

 

Cassian called out for Farran but his words were lost to the prince as Salem’s body shifted in his arms and slipped out of his grasp. Farran grappled for the male but the light was too bright to see and the water was boiling. Unbearably hot, and forcing Farran to step back as the water splashed over him. All of the candle light that normally illuminated the room was snuffed out by a shockwave that sent vibrations through Farran and Cassian then as soon as it started, the light blinked out of sight and Silvestri was gone and the chains were gone. Salem was floating in the center of the tub, facing up at the skylight that shone the first of the morning’s rays down upon him. Farran waded back out to the center to pull Salem back up into his arms. Holding him tightly in his embrace. The sickly pallor had faded some and Salem’s breathing appeared to be normal again. He didn’t look as close to death’s door anymore but that was yet to be known for certain.

 

The Prince gently carried Salem up and out of the water where Cassian stood with towels waiting for them. Both men watching the wolf closely as they wrapped him up in warmth. It wasn’t until they had returned to Salem’s room and laid him down into the bed when Salem’s eyes started to open ever so slowly. They were heavy with sleep and he was still weak but that was a start. Farran was just about jumping for joy, stumbling over himself to get a glass of water for Salem so he could drink. Nearly spilling it on himself and the wolf in the process. The wolf drank small amounts at a time as directed by Farran but he urged Salem to drink an entire glass for time being. Already planning what the next couple days will entail for him and his pet.


End file.
